New Worlds Remains of the Alternate
by Unnamed.in.whispers
Summary: Mickey stayed in the alternate universe because they needed him... Jake needed him... Follows 'New Worlds'


**Title:** Remains of the Alternate **Pairing:** Mickey/Jake

**Series:** Dr Who **Rating:** 15 **Type:** Slash - AU

**Summary:** Continuing from _New Worlds... _Mickey stayed in the alternate universe because they needed him... Jake needed him...

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the Dr Who characters or anything from the universe of Dr Who. I am just taking the characters and playing with them a while – promising to restore them whole and unblemished! Thanks to Russell T for creating these toys for me to enjoy. Please don't take any of my playing as having any bearing on the actual franchise. Enjoy.

()

The fires blazed through the arc de triumph. Bodies littered Paris streets. Hunks of mettle and twisted fragments of cyberman cindered where they lay.

"We did it." Jake shouted at the top of his voice. "We liberated France!"

The blonde man turned and smiled sunshine.

"Mickey, look." Jake swept a hand over the horizon. "This was all down to you mate."

Mikey wiped the sweat from his brow and stood, breathless at the top of the Eiffel tower, with his best friend in this parallel world.

Up-lit by the afterglow of battle, cheeks rosed and eyes sparkling, Jake looked magnificent. Like the statues you saw of war heroes. He was there, he had conquered.

Mickey guessed that's what they were. They were heroes. Part of him liked the way that sounded.

Raising his radio to his lips, Mikey confirmed, "This is team one. We did it."

The static crackle was a wonderful sound. One that Mickey hadn't expected to hear. To tell the truth... he had figured he would be dead by now.

"Confirmed." Pete Tyler answered from over a mile away. "Well done team one. Think you boys should go and get yourselves a drink."

Smiling, Mickey kicked out at the dead hunk of metal at his feet, "What about the clean-up?"

"You can leave that to us." Pete said as his zeplin zoomed overhead.

The sonic wave alone forced Mickey to cower, arm held strong over Jake, in protection.

Jake punched the air in salute and turned to Mickey. "Now that's the kinda support I like to see from higher management."

Mickey smirked, watching the zeplin take up dominance over the French skies. "Guess we deserve a drink then."

It earned him an affectionate slap on the back and tight squeeze. Mickey was exactly where he wanted to be, on top of the world, in the arms of a friend... and alive. So alive.

"So... that drink..." Jake grinned.

"Yes," Mickey sighed, "I'm buying."

"Nah, mate. I meant... let's go somewhere nice."

Mickey shook his head in disbelief. He took in the scene about them, atop the Eifel tower, Paris burning beneath them... Jakes liquid eyes turned to him.

"Yeah. A nice pub."

Mickey laughed. He agreed.

There was a small pub, just off a side street. It was narrow, but filled with ale and had no other occupier. That was good enough for two battle-weary heroes, in need of well-earned rest-bite.

It was midnight and the taps were still flowing as Mickey poured the last of a mild cask. He returned to the set table. Jake had found it. Some, poor, couple must have been going about setting a meal before the cybermen attacked.

But Jake, always looking on the bright-side, lit the candles (As someone forgot to pay the electric bill), and went about piling their food rations on the plates (As the table had been laid out so nicely).

It had all the makings of a romantic meal... if they weren't two blokes and the fires hadn't been the burning cinders of a major city.

Still, shit happens.

"There's no more beer." Jake sneered. "All this way... and they don't even lay on beer."

Mickey watched the blonde futilely search the cupboards, before snorting and slamming them shut.

"Does it matter?" He asked. "There's wine, isn't there?"

Jake rolled his sapphire eyes. "Bloody southerners." He jeered. "Winos, the lot of yer."

Mickey grinned. "At least we don't sound like Martians."

Jake slapped him on the arm, "Yer cheeky basket!"

Mickey smiled, tipping his glass of red wine in salute.

Jake took his glass and downed it in one, giving a slight snort at the strength.

"Well, I might get used ter this stuff yet." Jake poured another glass.

"Take it easy," Mickey warned, "I don't want to have to carry you back to the base."

Jake snorted again, sipping at his wine.

It wasn't long before the pair were drunk. Jake underestimated the strength of wine. He was sat at the back of the bar quite happily cradling a third bottle as he finished the last verse of a ditty he heard when he was a kid.

"How many times can you make something rhyme with the word penis?"

"Depends on how determined yer are." He grinned, lopsidedly, taking another swig from the bottle.

"I've never heard so many football songs."

"You haven't been to enough matches up north."

"No. Guess not."

Jake looked at him, eyes a little heavy, smile a little uneven. "I'll take yer some day."

"Thanks." Mikey laughed. "Hero of the French revolution... scoring a date at Newcastle United."

Jake scrambled upright, as if slapped.

_Shit, _Mickey thought, "I mean..."

"Nah Man!" Jake protested, prodding him in the shoulder. "I know what yer meant then."

Mickey felt a panic rise, his chest tightened. "Mate, I didn't mean..."

"Nah, I know I'm not exactly classy or anything..."

Mikey stopped talking. Stopped thinking. He started listening.

"I'm just me... if that's a problem... pssst," Jake slumped back and rested his head on Mickeys shoulder. "I mean. If I were asking youze on a date... you. Me an' you..."

Mickey waited.

"Me an' you, mate." Jake snuggled closer into his side. "Nah. Not football for you, mate. Yer worth more than football. An', trust me, that's sayin' alot."

Mickey snorted, "Yeah. Like a midnight candlelight meal in Paris."

"That's it mate." Jake mumbled, half asleep. "Then I'd take yer back to me five star hotel and lay yer in silk sheets..."

Mickey caught his breath, "Silk sheets?" He asked.

"Yer." Jake turned his hot breath into Mickeys neck. "Silk sheets and a large four-poster bed..."

Mickey suddenly needed water.

"There would be a view from the room." Jake wet his lips, his tongue just touching Mickeys neck. "Not that we'd care."

Mickey finally drew breath. "Why? What would we be doing?"

Jake spurted hot breath onto Mickey, gripping his arm and drawing him momentarily closer. "Wouldn't you like ter know?"

"I kinda would. Actually..."

Mickey turned to the blonde... to find him unconscious, face pressed against his arm.

It had taken a full hour to drag Jake up the stairs of the neighbouring B&B. Then a little longer to strip him down and throw him into bed.

The next morning had been a little awkward.

Jake was hungover. He spent a good twenty minutes in the toilet. Mickey had waited anxiously in the B&B kitchen, slaving over a full-English breakfast.

"Ah, mate," Jake smiled into his bacon and eggs, "I love ya."

Mickey faltered a little. "Yeah, well... say that again when you're feeling better."

Jake avoided his eye...

The day had been spent walking along the streets, surveying the damage and finding pockets of survivors in the carnage.

It was quite easy not to discuss what they weren't supposed to be thinking of that didn't happen last night...

No. He wasn't thinking about it.

Mickey always had a thing for blondes. He was sure what Jake had said the other night was more than drunken rambling of two lonely heroes. Perhaps it was a sign. Perhaps it was time to stop living in the shadow of Rose Tyler and see the blonde stood right in front of him...

Mickey shook himself.

He wasn't gay. There had only ever been The Doctor. And who couldn't be drawn to that enigmatic man?

Enigmatic? When had he ever used that word?

No.

No way were there any signs coming from Jake. Sure – the guy was standing close to him, on the balcony overlooking Paris, in the light of a full moon. Yes, his friend had moved an arm around Mickey's shoulders in a warm and camaraderie gesture. Fine – Mickey was being turned into Jakes open arms...

"There's something I was wondering." Jake said solemnly.

Mickey gulped a response.

"That other night," Jake explained, "When we were..."

"Drunk?" Mickey offered, part wishing this moment would end.

"I guess." Jake looked him dead in the eye. "I meant every word."

Mickey's brain scrambled. "Huh?" Was the best he could manage.

"You and me and the silk sheets..." Jake went on, "Everything."

Oh.

And Jake was kissing him.

It was a strange and obvious thought as the idea finally dawned. Jake was actually kissing him and all he could do was stand there like a shop dummy!

It ended awkwardly... Jake moving only a few centimetres out of reach, "Sorry mate. Got the wrong end of the stick there..."

"You so didn't." Mickey replied, taking a grasp of blonde hair and guiding the mans warm lips to his own.

It was warm and sweet, soon becoming urgent and rough as Jake pressed Mickey against the balcony railing, his hand around Mickey's waist... his fingers finding the clasp of Mickey's trousers...

Mickey wrenched himself free... "Don't you think we should... take this slow?"

Jakes eyes clouded. "Why?"

Given the argument, Mickey had to agree... and then he was on his knees; fumbling with the buttons of his jacket as Jake pulled apart his pants.

Jakes mouth was warm as he rounded on Mickey's cock. The man doubled over in shock as his insides focused on the heat of the moment.

Man the boy had a suck as he worked up a pulsing rhythm that Mickey was sure would end in heart attack.

He came, warm and trembling, into the blondes mouth as he was supported by his friend holding him up.

"Better?" Jake asked.

Mickey responded by pushing the man down on the hard surface and taking a firm grip of his flesh, working his friends frustrations until they climaxed and he moaned to the nights sky.

It had been frantic and over very quickly... Mickey lay next to Jake on the abandoned French balcony.

The silence wasn't awkward. There was simply nothing to be said. They were mates. It was what they needed.

"I have a new assignment." Pete Tyler announced, hard and to the point... as he had been these past few months.

Mickey's look tightened on Jake, the blonde nodding agreement as they listened with hundreds of other operatives.

"A number of the cybermen have escaped to the parallel world." Pete went on to explain. "It means both worlds are in danger of destruction."

Mickey's universe swirled around him. He knew what was coming.

"I need volunteers to cross over with me and retrieve the cybermen to crush them once and for all."

He could feel Jakes eyes on him.

"Who's with me?" Pete asked.

Mickey felt close to breakdown. He knew the danger that they all faced. The cybermen crossing over meant global destruction of the parallel world... global climate change of this one... and Rose...

"I will."

Mickey stared at Jake, dumfounded, as his friend stepped forward.

"Anyone else?" Pete asked.

The volunteer line slowly formed, Mickey stepping up next to Jake.

"Excellent." Pete smiled. "We leave tomorrow, six hundred hours."

It took a while for the room to clear, but Mickey remained, staring at the blonde beside him.

Jake didn't even turn. "Never thought I'd keep you, mate." He admitted. "And now there's a chance for you to be with her... I couldn't hold you back from that."

Mickey wanted to tell him that Rose wasn't the only reason for doing this... that he meant more that she did... but nothing came out.

Jake smiled bitterly. "See ya tomorrow." He said and left the room.

Mickey felt like a hole had been punched in his gut. What had he just done?

The sunset darkened the room.

Tomorrow he would be back in his universe... back with the Doctor and Rose... was there any way Jake could understand that?

He sighed. Probably not.

With a heavy heart, Mickey left the briefing room.

Things between he and Jake would have to wait just a little while longer.


End file.
